


without interruption

by inferablefiend



Series: Our Burning World [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Christmas gift, F/M, Just Sex, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Presents, Sex, but not very chrismassy, feeling Christmassy, just cause
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 13:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17023332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inferablefiend/pseuds/inferablefiend
Summary: Florence has no idea what to give Arthur for Christmas until Sadie suggests sex.





	without interruption

**Author's Note:**

> here it is! the smutty fic I promised ya'll for Christmas. It's not very Christmassy, I'll admit, but was still fun to write.

“Which one should I get Arthur for Christmas?” Florence eyes the ivory guns, unsure of which one would be the best for him. Sadies points to the left one. “I don’t-I don’t actually want to get him a gun. He has plenty of those.” She blows out sharply, frustrated by yet another dead end. Her indecisiveness stems from wanting their first Christmas together to be perfect.

“Then why are we in here?” Sadies asks, putting her thumbs into her gun belt.

“He’s a man who likes to shoot. I thought he’d want another one.” Florence runs a hand through her hair and sends a nervous smile to the shopkeeper who is just staring at her like she’d lost her damn mind. Maybe she has. She’s never been in a relationship where the man respects her and damnit, this will be her first Christmas away from William. Why can’t it be perfect? And why does she always circle back to guns? What else is there to look at?

Sadie grabs Florence’s arm and pulls her from the gunshop, the taller woman staggering back as to keep her feet underneath her. “You’re an idiot. Men don’t want just guns. They also want sex. If Arthur is a typical man, he’ll want sex.”

“Sex as a present?” Florence wrenches her arm from Sadie who grins like a feral cat. 

“Come on, Florence. Are you telling me ya’ll haven’t had sex yet?” She laughs, tossing her head back.

Florence looks out at the street, Sadie’s laughter drawing eyes. Her face heats and she hopes they can’t hear their conversation. “I don’t see how that is any of your fucking business,” she says in a low tone, anger bubbling in her stomach. Sadie has, many times, made certain aspects of Florence’s life her business as if they share a common ground with losing their husbands. She doesn’t know anything about Sadie’s husband, but losing William, at least at this point, is like a weight off her chest. The man did nothing good and offered no one anything.

“Whoa, kitten,” Sadie says, holding up her hands. “Put away those claws. I only suggested you get him sex because he won’t expect it. Least of all from you.” Florence is quiet, staring at the woman hard, trying to figure out what she’s saying is true or not.

Sex? It never occurred to her to use it as a gift. It’s not like they haven’t had sex, it’s just hard to do it with a camp that’s so open. They’ve started and stopped so many times, and if they get anywhere substantial, Karen or Sadie or Miss Grimshaw stops them. Do they have a sense for such things? 

She sits on the steps of the gunshop, remembering a conversation she overheard between Arthur and Micah. “You fuck her yet?” Micah had asked.

Arthur coughed through his stew. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Morgan. Is she letting you fuck her? Get between those long, shapely legs? Does her bush match the color of her hair?”

“Get out of here, Micah,” Arthur growled, “before I put a bullet in your head.”

Florence shakes the memory from her head. She’s been warned by several women, even before running with Dutch’s gang, if you don’t keep your man sexually stimulated, he’ll find it in the whore houses.  _ Do you want him coming home with diseases?  _ “Alright, Sadie. Let’s say I go with your insane idea.”

Sadie’s grin only widens if possible. “Oh Florence, I have the best idea.”

Without waiting for her to gather her thoughts, Sadie grabs Florence’s hand and pulls her down the main drag of Saint Denis into a tailor’s shop. The tailor’s mouth pinches in a thin line when Florence walks through his door. “Ma’am, I don’t want-” Sadie moves her free hand to the gun holster attached at her hip, a glare set in her eyes. A challenge. 

“What can I help you lovely ladies with?” the tailor asks. He smiles though it strained and doesn’t reach his eyes.

“A corset for my big friend here,” Sadie says, pushing Florence forward. 

“A corset, Sadie? Is it really-”

“It’s my Christmas present from me to you. Come on Florence, you said you would go along with this. Are you going to back out?” Sadie shifts her weight to her back hip, eyes searching Florence’s face.

The tailor says nothing to Florence, but she can feel the tension between them. He’s careful not to touch her skin and fits her quickly, picking out a forest green corset that not only presses up the mounds of her breasts but makes her skin shine more earthly brown. “I look like a tree,” Florence says, frowning in the mirror.

“A sexy tree. Damn, Florence. I’d fuck you if I had a penis,” Sadie says, whistling low. The tailor glares at her, obviously wanting them out of his shop sooner rather than later. The air becomes more uncomfortable as they are stuck there further to make sure the corset fits her. She’s given a silk, green skirt of the same color and a sheer white shawl to put around her shoulders, not that it’s cold at all in Lemoyne. 

Sadie pays for it all, winking at the tailor. “Appreciate your business, partner,” she says quietly, giving him a quick grin.

“Just get out.” He says it low enough that Florence barely catches it, but she’s out that door, not wanting to cause any trouble with anyone, though her skin does that enough for her. 

“Come on, Florence,” Sadie says, grabbing her hand and slamming the door to the tailor’s shop so hard, the windows rattle.

“Was that necessary?”

“You shouldn’t have to be looked at like that. You aren’t-” Sadie stops herself, glancing at the taller woman. “Let’s go get you a room. We need to make sure everything is perfect.”

They are a sight to behold, two women walking down the main street of Saint Denis. One dressed up like a common whore, or rather in Florence’s opinion, and the other in men’s clothing. A few whistles reach their ears and offers of price. Sadie’s hand never leaves Florence’s shoulder, pulling her pistol from her holster and spinning it lazily on a finger as they decide on a hotel.

Saint Denis has plenty of hotels to choose from and Florence hates to admit how excited she is about tonight. To finally have a moment to themselves without the interruption of the gang or Dutch needing him in the middle of the night, it gives her shivers and makes her wet with anticipation. How she’s going to get him here without anything being suspicious is beyond her.

They are given a nice sized room, a big enough bed to hold at least three people, a mirror off to the left and a large, oak wardrobe. “Alright, you wait here. I’ll go and get him.”

“How are you going to draw him here?” Sadie stops and looks at Florence, biting her lip.

“I dunno. Got any ideas besides telling him I got him a whore for Christmas?” Florence frowns. “I’m joking, Florence. I would never. I’ll think of something.” 

*

Florence finds herself looking out the window for him, for his black horse. The window faces out to a part of the street but he could always come from the other side. She smooths down the skirt, taking short breaths to keep from passing out. How women wear this everyday is beyond her.

The sound of hurried boots coming up the stairs alerts her to the door and she turns, scrunching her hands into the skirt just in time to see Arthur come through. “Florence, Sadie said-” His sentence is cut off as he notices her, his mouth hanging open like a fish.

“Sadie said what?” Florence asks quietly, not quite ready to start yet. She is foolish. She should’ve just came to him and told she needed- 

Arthur crosses the room, gathering her up in his arms and kissing her deeply, his hands weaving into her thick brown hair. “Nothing,” he mumbles against her lips. Her hands skip over his leather jacket, finding the hard planes of his chest and the simple button up shirt he’s wearing. She makes quick work of it, her fingers trailing through the hair on his chest. He groans, pulling back from her. “Fuck, Florence.”

A thrill goes through her when he breathes his name and stares down at her body. It feels  _ good  _ knowing she’s doing this to him. That the bulge in his pants is from her. “I want this off of you,” he growls, bringing her close to him again and kissing her, his lips trailing fire down her neck. His fingers make quick work of the thin ribbon crossing along her back, his fingers sending shivers down her spine when they brush against her skin. She’s hot suddenly, not able to take in a full breath as he continues his assault on her neck. The corset unwraps around her, leaving her nearly breathless as she leans against him, her breasts up against his exposed chest.

“Florence,” Arthur mumbles, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back gently. “God, Florence.” His teeth grazes her skin, catching it between them. He’s soft in his exploration, his hands moving from her hair now to her exposed and cold breasts, nipples standing to attention. One hand tweaks the right nipple while the other massages the left, moans erupting from her mouth as she grips Arthur’s jacket tightly.

They break apart, eyes gazing into each other. She laughs slightly, a smile lighting her face. “Merry Christmas, Arthur,” she says quietly, running her hands under the shoulders of his jacket and pushes it off of him. His unbuttoned shirt hangs loose around his muscular torso and she pushes it off, panting slightly.

Arthur says nothing, only silently looking at her as she grabs his belt buckle and undoes it. His cock pops free of the constraint of his pants and she grabs it immediately, pumping slowly with her hand while capturing him in another kiss. “Florence, I want--I need--” She’s down on her knees, taking the cock into her mouth, sucking hard at the head at first.

Arthur’s hand wraps in her hair, his groans echoing off the walls. She takes the moment to pull down his pants and he frees himself from his boots, now only wearing the loosened button-up shirt. 

Jerking her hand along the length of him, she swirls her tongue around the sensitive area of the head, sucking him into her mouth and pulling in her cheeks. An unconstrained thrust into her mouth surprises her and she gags slightly. “Shit, I’m sorry Florence. I didn’t mean to-” She does it again, grabbing him around the thigh to bring his hips forward. His cry is enough encouragement to make her repeat this process again and again.

He pulls her up, kissing her deeply as he guides them back to the bed. The skirt is ripped from her body, the pain around her waist only brief until his hand finds her slick folds. A single finger slips between her lips and she moans. “Arthur,” she whispers as she falls back onto the bed. He lays next to her, his hand working away at her pussy, pushing a finger into her entrance and pumping slowly. She widens her legs and he adds another finger, filling her further. His mouth finds her nipple and she arches into him, her free hand pinching the neglected nipple. “I need you. Please, I need you.”

He moves agonizingly slow, rolling over to the top of her, his arms holding his weight as he peppers kisses from her neck and down the middle of torso and into the patch of hair right above her core. His tongue flicks out, barely grazing her clit. “Oh, god,” she moans, gripping the blankets around her. He does it again, pressing his tongue flat against her clit and works the muscle up and down, creating friction. She spasms, her hand gripping for his hair to hold him there.

“I want you inside of me.”

Arthur moves the flat of his tongue down her slit and pushes it into her entrance, his thumb taking over the job of flicking her clit. “Not-not what-” She can’t finish her sentence, her moans turning into quiet squeals as she tries not to move too much. Her body tingles and tenses, telling her she’s on the edge of her orgasm. “Arthur,” she moans. 

He thrusts inside of her slowly, kissing and swallowing her sudden screams. Her nails claw at his clothed back as his cock fills her and her orgasm sends her tumbling over the edge. Curses are muffled between their lips as she pulls at his hair. “Faster,” she breathes and he obliges, pushing his hips in at a sharp angle. He alternates between quick, short pumps and longer, drawn out thrusts.

“Florence,” Arthur grunts. “I’m close. I need--I have to--” Before he can finish his sentence, he pushes into her deeply, shooting his seed up into her. Florence tightens around him, the strange sensation can only be described as pleasurable. He slowly moves in her until his cock has gone completely flaccid, pulling out. His seed dribbles down her ass and pools on the bed underneath her.

She laughs, eyes barely keeping open from the force and surprise of her second orgasm. He sheds his shirt and lays next to her, pulling her into his arms. “That was a pretty good Christmas gift,” he murmurs into her hair, his fingers making slow, lazy circles around her nipples.

“Long overdue,” she replies, nearly asleep.

“Can’t wait to see what I get for my birthday.” Florence laughs, kissing the underside of his jaw.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to wait until your birthday for more sex.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
